Did you feel it? Did anyone besides me feel it? The world — at least the world that I experience on a daily basis — ended. On December 21, 2012 we went down to Louisiana to pick up my mother-in-law (henceforth known as the MIL) for a small holiday visit.

The angels wept.

From the ruckus of getting the dogs settled into the kennel they'll be staying at this week down to the insanity of trying to weave our way through a department store so that the MIL could buy the presents she somehow foolishly thinks she needs to buy (no matter how many times I tell her that SHE is our gift she keeps giving me a look that suggest I'm a moron and proceeds to plan out what she wants to purchase for us) — my world and sanity ended.

Of course, it didn't end there. Oh no. That would be too merciful of an apocalypse for it to have all just faded to black and ended. No, the end of my world has continued and continues still. For example, last night we finally pulled into town and settled ourselves in at my home…

MIL: Why can't we watch channel 4? I always watch that.

My wife: Mom, we don't get your channel 4 here. We're in Arkansas.

MIL: I don't see what that has to do with anything. It's on all the time.

My wife: Mom (turning the channel to 4) does that look like your channel 4?

MIL: Nooo. I wonder what's wrong. I bet the weather has messed up the signal. I just wanted to see if we could see your cousin Jean on there tonight.

My wife: Shaun.

MIL: What? No. Jean.

My wife: It's Shaun.. not Jean.

MIL: That's what I'm saying.. like Jean Claude Van Damme.

My wife: It's not Jean. It's Shawn. It has an S and an H in it.

MIL: That's what I'm saying. Jean.

…

Seriously. This argument broke out multiple times. Well, okay, not really an argument but neither of these women will let go of the fact that they know "they" are right and that the other is totally full of something that isn't right.

Case in point, at the moment my wife is telling her goodnight and is about to close the door for her mother my MIL leans in and whispers to her.

"It's Jean."

I've got five more days of this, people. I'm telling you now that I will not survive this and that this may very well be the last column you ever see from me. Sure, that won't bother the 99.7 percent of you that don't read it but for the other .3 percent this could cause some serious sorrow on their part.